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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29536167">Conversion</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sing_o_clio/pseuds/Sing_o_clio'>Sing_o_clio</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Body Horror, Canary Wharf Battle, Cyber Conversion (Doctor Who), Cybermen - Freeform, Episode: s02e12 Army of Ghosts, Episode: s02e13 Doomsday, Horror, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Torchwood One, simple screams weren't enough, the deep dive into cyber conversion no one wanted</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:42:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>963</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29536167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sing_o_clio/pseuds/Sing_o_clio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>AKA Sitting, Waiting, Screaming</p><p>Torchwood has fallen. The Cyber conversions begin.</p><p>I don't know what's happening.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Conversion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>AKA I just rewatched Army of Ghosts/Doomsday, and this occurred to me. Give me all the cyber trauma please. This might not be as scary as the tags suggest, but I freaked myself out, so I count that as a win.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They said you will become like us. Why did they say that? Why did they force me in here? What’s going on?</p><p>I have to think. We’re Torchwood, we don’t freeze up. They trained me for this. Well, not for this exactly. There’s too many of them. How are you supposed to fight aliens you let in?</p><p>Like us. What does that mean? I’m nothing like that...thing. How would they even do that?</p><p>No. Escape. Surrounded by metal people, no way out. Outnumbered, definitely. Electromagnetic pulse? Explosion? Microwave maybe, microwaves and metal don’t go well together. I don’t have any of those things though. I can’t run, they’ll just put me back in. </p><p>Like us? Metal casing, maybe? No, that makes no sense. How would they keep control? It’s alien tech, I suppose, but how?</p><p>This is wrong. It’s not supposed to be like this. If it’s alien, it’s ours. They don’t feel much like mine, right now. David, he’s mine.</p><p>God, maybe I’ll never see him again.</p><p>I’ll just disappear. Subsumed. Like us. I still can’t figure it out. Robots. What did the Doctor call them?</p><p>Oh, the Doctor. The enemy finally shows up, and he’s wearing Converse. What a universe. He might save us. They say he does that. When he’s not fighting off werewolves with the power of his almighty intellect. </p><p>Cybermen. That was what he called them. Cyber...men. Well, if names are supposed to be self-explanatory...Robots. That’s all I’ve got. </p><p> </p><p>Hang on. What’s that noise? I’ve only just gotten used to it, but it’s getting louder. Why would it get louder? Renovations, they said. I’m sure that was it. Louder. It’s everywhere. Wait, no, not quite everywhere, just loud, overwhelming. </p><p>Oh God. </p><p>It’s above me. </p><p>I have to look up, but I don’t want to. This is going to explain it all, and I’m not going to like it. </p><p>I have to. I can’t help myself. </p><p>Oh God. Cybermen. I’m Torchwood, and I just got it. Pathetic, really. They’re not robots. Cyborgs, if you’re being pedantic, but I’m not.<br/>I don’t have the space for pedantry right now. </p><p>They’re coming down. No, no. I was supposed to escape. I’m struggling, but it’s only now the restraints come in. How did they get me in here? I should have run. Surely whatever that electrocution, deletion, was, it had to be better than this. </p><p>Wait, like us. You will become like us. Do they remember? Will I remember? How do they remember? I’m going to get chopped to pieces, and I’m going to feel it. </p><p>A flash in my peripheral vision. More restraints, probably so I can’t look up. There are so many instruments. It can’t be that delicate, chopping. </p><p>It’s only coming down. Delicate. Awareness. Remembering. </p><p> </p><p>Please, no, I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to feel it. Please. Please.</p><p> </p><p>My head’s held still now. I’m completely immobile. I have to think about something else. Anything to avoid the dread.</p><p>The Doctor. The enemy. I never thought he’d really be here. A fairy tale, an excuse to stretch empire to the stars and beyond. Arrogant, perhaps. As if we had the strength for empire. We just got invaded, and we don’t like it much. Turning tables. </p><p> </p><p>The Doctor. He’s supposed to save us, to save me. What else is he there for? I’m angry, somehow, even as the tear slips down my cheek. I can still feel that. I can’t wipe it away, can’t rub my eyes. Can’t pretend. </p><p>I’ve given up on him already. There’s not much room for hope, when the knife’s coming down on your head. Not much room for anything.</p><p>Maybe it’ll be better this way. </p><p> </p><p>Screaming. </p><p> </p><p>Screaming. </p><p> </p><p>My head’s not supposed to open like that. Not supposed to be open at all. No vulnerabilities. No being ripped open, no crying. </p><p>I can’t feel anything. My hands are gone. My toes. Did I have toes, once? Is this what being paralysed is like? I can’t see. Why can’t I see? Where am I?</p><p>There was the pain, but it’s gone. I can’t feel anything. Where did I go? </p><p>No. Logic. Torchwood above all. My head was open, and then, nothing.</p><p>I don’t have a head, now.</p><p>Brain, then. Can’t feel without a brain, without a body. Don’t need to feel anything ever again. No more crying. No more pain. </p><p>I want to cry. I can’t cry. I’m lost.</p><p>This is how the upgrade goes. New body, soon. Maybe they could reverse it. Maybe I could still be saved.</p><p>Maybe I could see them again. All of them. Maybe he’d smile at me, just once. That would make me feel better.</p><p>The Doctor doesn’t save anybody. He just lets them suffer. They cry, and ache, and feel. I don’t feel any more. </p><p>But I do. I still do. I’m inside the metal now. I was right. There’s something to be said for that, at least. My brain, inside a Cyberman, walking around, and talking. Could I talk, now? Do they hear me right now? Will I be here forever?</p><p>Yes. Immortality never seemed so long before. Long, and happy. No, not happy. Just long, then.</p><p>Is this it? Will I be trapped in this metal, silently screaming? What about the rest? Do they know? I still can’t see. I have metal now, shouldn’t it be cold? Shouldn’t I feel it? <br/>I don’t want to feel it. Feeling is full of pain, emotions. </p><p>What about the rest? We’re all trapped here now. Where are they? I thought they were connected, like a hive mind. I’m isolated. I’m cold. I think it’s almost over. Where are they?</p><p>We are here. Do not be afraid. We will take the pain away. </p><p> </p><p>They will become... like me.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You will become like me.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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